“No.” He scoffed, glancing up at the ceaseless stretch of blue above. “We’ve got enough gospel out here. I’m just stating facts. Sensible, practical truths.”
“Is that why you’re taking the kids from
her? Because it’s the sensible thing to do regardless of how it’ll affect Emmy or the children?”
“You just met them. You don’t know enough about any of us to pass judgment—”
“You’re right. It’s not my place to judge, and that’s not my intention.” Her tone softened. “But I know what it feels like to lose something precious. I wouldn’t wish it on anyone.”
She stopped, then looked down, her gaze darting over the red clay oozing up around her white tennis shoes and then settling on the interior of the car.
He studied the defensive posture of her slender frame. The dark flush in her cheeks, the tight line of her mouth.
The angry buzz in his veins quieted as he slowly straightened. “What have you lost, Kristen?”
She turned away, staring over her shoulder at the low swoop of a red-tailed hawk floating on the current over the empty fields. Her pulse fluttered beneath the delicate skin of her exposed neck, just below her jaw. “Everyone’s lost something.” Her slim throat moved on a hard swallow; then she faced him, expression blank and eyes empty. “Haven’t you?”
“Yes, but—”
“Then let’s just say we both know how that feels.” A hint of desperation shook her steady words. “Can we agree on that at least?”
Mitch waited, holding her steady gaze, then watched the rapid rise and fall of her chest. “Okay. For now, we’ll agree on that.” He returned his attention to her face. “But believe me when I say there’s more to this than you think. This farm may be precious to Emmy, but it’s been nothing but mud and blood for me.”
Kristen’s mouth parted and the quick lift of her chest stilled as her eyes swept over his chest and thighs, then focused on his hands. A sharp sting hit the tender flesh of his palms, and he unfurled fists he hadn’t realized he’d formed, the press of his nails leaving throbbing impressions behind.
“Sadie and Dylan, however . . .” He cleared the tightness from his throat. “They’re precious to me, and I’d never do anything I didn’t think was in their best interest. I’m only trying to make sure that bad history doesn’t repeat itself. From the little you know of me, can we agree on that in good faith, too?”
He flinched. There was that word again. The one he hadn’t uttered a single time in the fourteen years since he’d left this place. That blind, gullible term Emmy applied to every challenging circumstance regardless of common sense or reality.
Maybe it’s not the land you lack faith in but me.
“I may not agree with Emmy,” he tacked on, “but I want only what’s best for her, as well.”
She remained motionless, peering at him as the rumble of a semitruck approached along the worn highway at their backs and then faded in the distance. She released a slow breath. “All right.”
A bead of sweat trickled down the back of his neck and seeped into the collar of his shirt. He returned to his crouched position behind the car and gripped the bumper. “Guide it toward the grass while I shove.”
“I really think we should give that plank a—”
“All I need is for you to give it gas and steer.” His face heated. Damn. Why did he have this inane tendency to act like an ass around her? He inclined his head. “Please.”
Her eyes narrowed, but after a moment, she slipped into the driver’s seat and shut the door, cranked the engine, and hit the gas. The tires spun erratically, flinging thick clay across his pant legs, and the exhaust pipe puffed fumes in his face. Coughing, he pushed, rocked, and slammed his shoulder into the unyielding metal for what seemed like ten minutes, to no avail, then slumped against the trunk to catch his breath.
The engine stopped, and a window rolled down on a smooth whisper. He propped his sweaty forearms against the trunk and leaned to the side.
Kristen’s gleaming eyes and wide smile stared back at him. “Want me to give that plank a kick now?”
He batted away a gnat, then grunted, “Yeah.”
She hopped out, walked to the front of the car and kicked the plank wedged against the left tire twice. After returning to the driver’s seat, she accelerated while he shoved. With slick suction, the tire lurched from the mud, propelling the car off the driveway and onto the grassy shoulder.
Grinning, Kristen reemerged, spun toward him, then bowed.
He laughed. “You were right. I was wrong. Thanks.”
“Never hurts for a man to tell a woman that. And you’re welcome.”
Those green eyes of hers lit up, and her expression lifted with her teasing tone, dispelling the dark shadows. Her whole demeanor brightened, conjuring up a warm welling sensation within his chest.